


radio silence

by sunsetblue



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Gir is baby, M/M, asshole zim, bastard dib, even though he technically doesnt exist for a while, gir is.., most of the aliens are from hitchhikers guide im not going to lie, space mechanic dib, tired dib, wired dib, wrote this with a cold, zim is a surprise yall dont get to cheat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22035559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetblue/pseuds/sunsetblue
Summary: The Irkens and most of their technology vanished five cycles ago, leaving a power gap and a huge, unanswerable question.Who did this, and who was next?The question has since faded into the background amidst the cosmic static of the universe. But Dib Membrane just found a PAK, and he's not going to rest until he finds an answer.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Dib was arms deep in Cyberflox garbage when he found the PAK. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it at first, given the fact that Irkens and attached technology had completely vanished five cycles ago, their previously occupied territories since looted for all they were worth and then some. To his knowledge, except for one occasion during the Irken occupation of Vort, no other lifeform had been able to successfully separate Irken and PAK without getting subsequently killed, and he certainly never heard news of the technology being recovered after the Vanishing, a fact that dispelled the widespread belief of a universe wide bio-sweep. But after evaluating the thing and comparing brief memory he had of his experience with Irkens, he eventually decided that it was, unmistakably, a PAK. A quick judge of his surroundings revealed that the area was free of those willing to do anything for such a piece of tech (which was, admittedly, most of the people he knew), and he fled to his ship before that changed, taking every precautions and travelling indirectly to his current home on the trade planet, Velunka. 

The air in his work room seemed charged with a static energy, and Dib found himself no different. When he wasn't darting around the cluttered, disjointed space for various tools, his legs shook so vigorously that his table rattled many an object off. His fingers, knobby as they were thin, skated across the metal surface of the PAK, seeking a give in the seemingly smooth plates. Trials with blades and pliers yielded nothing except for a warning beep from the contraption, after which Dib backed off and sulked. He watched it warily, mindlessly tinkering with a client's holodisk projector, ignoring the ludacris amount of porn occasionally flashing across the wall (a regular occurrence in his line of work) in favor of staring at the enigma. When he finished with his current project, he would search for vids of Irkens in action, closely studying the variety of appendages and weapons that would manifest from within the PAK, no visible command given by the host for it to react. Grainy footage splayed across the wall showed a recording of a soldier disconnecting from its PAK to pull a high risk maneuver, then scrambling to reattach it.

Hours passed by like that. Occasionally Dib would inch towards it, only for the beep to sound out again, almost _angrier_ in tone. And if what he picked up from the vids and gossip around his shop, Irkens weren't a thing to be messed with, gone or not. But he was curious, and try as he might, Dib couldn't help himself. After all, no one aside from the Irkens themselves got to know the inner workings of PAKs, usually because no one could separate the two and live. This was an unprecedented opportunity to learn more about the species, and maybe a chance to explore their disappearance. If he ever got to exploring it's inner mechanisms, that is.

Not many would admit it, and fewer aloud, but no relief came when Irk and its inhabitants far and wide dissipated into thin air unannounced, never to be heard from again. If anything, tensions grew. Fights for dominance over now unclaimed territories began, and rebellions swelled up to the likes of those not seen since the Armada first started to spread. But the question remained:

Who or what had the power to do this, and who was next?

Then five long cycles passed with no word, and the question slowly faded into the background, the search for an answer paused, almost forgotten.

Dib caught himself falling half asleep while cleaning and rewiring a ScootyPuff Jr, still staring between the vids and the PAK, zapping his fingers on live wires every time he didn't pay enough attention or nodded off. He gave up, nursing his raw fingertips as he crawled into his bunk space, singed skin and all. The motors of his oxygen filter gently whirred, and his thoughts slowed into sleep.

\--

Back when he had only been in space for a couple of months, he used to dream of Earth, of his family. Sometimes Dib allowed himself to regret not saying goodbye, and tried to dream a version where he did, but they never softened the blow. He hadn't had one of those dreams in a couple of years. 

His home planet was a faint memory now, it having been a good decade since he gave up on living a terrestrial life. 

\--

Dib did not dream of Earth that night.

Instead, he dreamt of lines and lines of what looked like code, but in symbols he didn't understand. That didn't stop him from feeling a certain urgency to comprehend it, almost as if the code itself was begging him to read it. Text blinked and blanked and blunked, scrolling through his conciousness faster and faster, making Dib feel even more frantic in his efforts to decode. Something about it looked so familiar, but he couldn't place it for the life of him, the memory too far away from his sprawling web of digits and decimals. 

Some new Vortian pop song woke Dib up, warbling voices echoing around his bunk until his hand finally slapped the alarm, the last few notes fading out as Dib rolled off the foam plank he called a bed. Any remnants of his dream were dispelled with the crackle of cosmic static that came as he changed stations, leaving only a somewhat hurried feeling that reminded him of the night he left for the stars.

A quick shower and clothing change later (the latter taking most of the time due to the need for a smell check) had found Dib wandering out from his personal area and into the shop portion of his lease on Velunka. It was left in a ragged, oily mess from the night before, and while Dib didn't exactly ever feel the need for a clean, presentable workspace, he grimaced at the thought that even his shadier customers would shake their heads (or other shakeable appendages) at the sight. With great reluctance, Dib dug through the mess for his cleaning supplies, haphazardly donning an apron and gloves to reduce the risk of even more chemically induced injuries. It had taken him a while to get in the habit of cleaning, something he never really bothered with on Earth. But here he didn't have endless amounts of currency and spare parts to create robots that would do the jobs he couldn't deign to concern himself with. An hour and some sore knees later, and the shop was presentable enough to be seen by other people. He had a few minutes before he usually opened up shop, and knowing that he wouldn't be able to mess with the PAK until after he closed (for fear of theft and other things), Dib sat down on the floor near it, and turned up the radio to help him focus.

\--

It was the night of his high school graduation, and he was sixteen years old. According to his father, he was off schedule in his life by three years, but it was acceptable enough, even if it was disappointing for a Membrane. Everyone else had parties to go to, family and friends to celebrate with. Dib had to drive himself home, because his father didn't want to be embarrassed by showing up to a ceremony that was three years late, and no one wanted to hang out with the kid three years younger who knew enough about bodily sciences to take down anyone who reminded him about what a freak he was. His life was scheduled down to the hour, and even if he was allowed to take his sweet time in high school, now he would be afforded no such breaks. Professor Membrane had already scheduled Dib a flight to one of his less regulated labs outside the United States. In a week, he'd be in Venezuela, preparing to pick up the family business.

The thought of a life lived only by routine was visceral and ugly in his belly, and roiled to the point of making him physically sick. So for his last week of freedom, fueled by stimulants and stubbornness, Dib worked on a vessel. 

He'd had unlimited access to the Membrane supply system since he could hold a screwdriver, in hopes that opportunity would lead to occurrence and the clone would follow in its famed father's footsteps. He never really utilized it for things beyond building simple machinery to do chores and cook while he pursued his own interests. But now, he had a purpose for that access, one he was very passionate in accomplishing. Over the course of three days, shipments came in, from thorium to titanium, and his starship began to take form. It was small and sturdy, looking more like a shoe than the sleek shuttles his father designed. He stocked it with high calorie foods, water, and several oxygen filters. Dib spent his last night on Earth playing video games with his sister, eating as much Bloaty's pizza as he could. Then, when his sister was asleep, he left.

His ship was quiet when it took off, and quieter still when he left the atmosphere. 

His map directed him to the closest star cluster, where the chance of encountering life was high. But the universe was big, and Dib Membrane was not. A week later found Dib drifting on the edge of the civilised universe, cold and alone. 

As he woke, twin suns rose over a rust red world, and the adrenaline flooded back into his system.

The planet he stumbled on was the biggest junkyard Dib had ever seen. The inhabitants, though coarse, proved to be friendly after some good natured conversation about mechanics, and his knowledge on safe nuclear power allowed him to find camaraderie amongst the patchwork citizens. Even though he had no knowledge of the languages his new friends used, communication through mathematics (truly the universal language) and gestures allowed them to get by well enough. A broad, two-headed alien took to teaching Dib a common language, Galax, in exchange for knowledge about Earth's history. Slowly but surely, Dib became passable in his speaking, and started to piece together a translator in which he coded the other languages the rest of the crew taught him. By what Dib figured to be a one in a 10^24 chance, one of his new friends was physiologically very similar to homo sapiens, with the notable exception of an arsenic tolerant digestive system. So when his food supply ran out, Shink-ar gave him a list of foods that should be palatable, along with terms that denoting something poisonous to carbon based lifeforms. His ship was docked on the planetary equivalent of a trailer park, and Dib was living the life he couldn't have even dreamt of.

\--

Business was slow, in the meandering sludge that Dib was used to. His regulars picked up and dropped off tech, new visitors peeked in to see what stand alone devices he created. He chatted with some of his more savory clients, played with his blueprint configurations to attract more customers, and tried not to be distracted by the PAK under the counter.

"You want me to.. fix it?"

Dib's customer, a hefty Vogon, sneered at the suggestion, then coughed at the effort.

"No, no, it's partial payment for the holodisk repairs. I _was_ using it as a garbage can but then the blasted thing turned on," the Vogon said, disgust apparent as his 'payment' ran in circles on the shop's counter. "I expect, eh, a fifty percent reduction of my payment in exchange. 

Dib swept the robot into his gloved arms, inspecting the thing at a safe length, popping open the neural cavity which proved to be empty, save for a handful of trash. He grimaced. "Fifty in exchange for a prototype that shouldn't work? I appreciate the offer uhh, Jeltz, but the repairs included brand new tungsten circuitry-"

The PAK beeped from under the table. Dib froze, and his customer took note, beginning to lean over the counter until Dib shot up from his seat.

"What was the offer you had for me?"

Jeltz slid off the steel counter, stared at him and cleared his throat, leading Dib to believe for a dubious second that it was about to begin a warbling poetry recital.

"I _said_ , that I expect fifty percent off, unless you are partial to the idea of a bureaucratic interest in your 'business', which I believe would be unfortunate at best for you, especially if any, say, illegal equipment was to be found."

"That is a very generous deal," Dib exclaimed, ready to have this particular customer leave. "I'll just give you this and you can sign over your credits-"

The Vogon smiled sickeningly, like only a bureaucrat could.

"That _was_ a generous deal. However, due to your ridicule of a government employee, I trust that you will be satisfied in an equal exchange. You take the robot, and I will take my holodisk, no credits required."

Dib swallowed the lump in his throat, and took back the tablet, passing over the holodisk instead. "Sounds.. wonderful. Thank you for your business."

Jeltz nodded, satisfied, and left with his holodisk. Dib pulled down the shutter and locked the shop as soon as the Vogon was out of sight, and sank into his chair, the little robot watching him from it's spot on the counter. His fingers ran over the creases on his forehead and through his wild hair, thumbs then rubbing at his temples. After a quick breather, he peered at the PAK, which now had a contented, pulsing pink glow. Dib stood up slowly, as if his body was hesitant to leave his chair.

"Did-did you _want_ the robot?"

The PAK hummed, a far cry from the angry beeps it had given him thus far. Dib gawked at it, the thought of communication with software, advanced as it was, tantalizing and terrifying. The robot swung its legs lackadaisically and looked down at Dib.

"You my new master, or what?"

"What?" Dib's eyes jumped from the PAK to the new voice.

Sky blue optics stared at him from the counter.

"You got any trash?"

"Yesss..?"

"Cool!" It exclaimed, hopping off the counter. Dib looked back towards the PAK.

"You finally made an effort to communicate, for that?"

The PAK stayed silent, although the gentle, pulsing glow did not fade. 

Dib reached out towards it, prepared to yank his hand back at the warning beep he had come to expect. But as his hand approached, the sound never came. His fingers splayed across the warm metal shell, pink light reflecting off his glasses. Dib's breath caught in his throat, the humming under his fingers traveling up his arm.

Then the robot screamed, and the moment shattered.


	2. the metallic menace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dib learns how to get along and the PAK is proving to be a lot more trouble than he thought.

The robot, which Dib had taken to calling GIR, after the damn thing begun responding to Dib's frustrated growls, did not seem to have an off-switch. Dib had shut down the shop for the day after the visit with Jeltz bombed so horribly, too antsy to deal chance another risk of discovery. The PAK didn't respond to any more questions after the initial humming and troublemaking, so Dib had taken the time to try and work with the robot to make it manageable during his work day. That's how he found about the total lack of a power source. It kind of freaked him out, to be honest. GIR giggled uncontrollably while Dib checked and double checked for solar cells, thermal generators, and hell, even a nuclear interface, because that would make more sense than simply having nothing. 

After a while he gave up on his fruitless endeavor. It wasn't like he'd be able to turn the bot off anyways whenever he had even mentioned finding GIR's off switch out loud, the PAK would beep again, angry as ever, and Dib had no intention of being the last person to be killed by the Irken regime.

Still, work with the robot was tiring, and Dib had half a mind to invent time travel just to beat past him over the head with a chair for bringing the metallic menace into his shop. 

Dib figured after a while that he could just use the Earth-patented cat-in-a-whorehouse method, and simply lock GIR in the bathroom whenever business began. Though based on the state of seemingly endless energy, the room might need some sound-proofing. And child-proofing. Maybe flame-proofing. GIR-proofing, definitely.

A crash and subsequent thud echoed from his bunk, causing Dib to put down his future bathroom blueprints so that he could take a look. Unsurprisingly, GIR was obviously the cause, the tiny robot surrounded by broken glass, with a large cracked frame face down beside him. Dib grabbed a broom and dust pan before picking up the robot to dust off any shards that may have stuck. GIR squealed in delight, grabbing hold of Dib's forearm as he swept up the glass, only letting go when Dib gently shook the picture and lifted it up.

"Hey!" GIR exclaimed, pointing at the photo. "That you!"

It was him, along with most of his friends from Klough. Dib dumped the dustpan in the trash, and then sat on his bed, still holding the picture. GIR scrambled up Dib's legs like a metal monkey, and plunked himself down beside Dib, swinging his legs. It was, hard to look at for some reason. Dib knew that a little bit of melancholy was normal, especially with how much like family they'd become. But the thing constricting his throat was deeper than that, and it ached.

GIR peered over at the photo, and pointed at another person.

"Who's that?"

Dib brushed his thumb over the softly fraying edge, trailing alongside one of the photo's occupants.

"That's Elid," he told GIR, who looked on with interest. "He would've liked you."

And it was true. Elid loved adopting little creatures that didn't belong anywhere. In all honesty, that was probably why the two-headed Betelgeusian had taken such a liking to sixteen-year-old Dib. He laughed at the thought, realizing that Elid had first approached him exactly as if he was a lost puppy. Ten years ago, he wasn't so different from GIR.

Dib stood up, melancholy forgotten, and placed the picture on the table. Elid had been an expert at training the abandoned creatures of the universe because he had treated them well, and made slow compromises to obtain a goal. Maybe if he used the same principles, GIR could be.. managed, maybe even helpful. Well, maybe not helpful. That was a far stretch even with Dib's long limbs and fanciful imagination. 

But the hum of the PAK echoed from the well of his memory. If the PAK wanted GIR so badly, maybe he knew something about it. 

"Hey, Gir, how about we go for a walk, and maybe pick up a frame since this one is broken?"

GIR popped up immediately.

"Eeeeeeeeee!" The robot squealed, running more circles around the room. Dib hummed and chewed his bottom lip in thought. Some sort of leash was clearly needed to keep GIR from running off, especially here in the sketchier part of the already untrustworthy Velunka. He rummaged through the parts in his shop, and found a steel cable that was just thin enough to bend into a usuable harness.

"GIR!" Dib called out, and the robot stopped running to peer through the doorway.

"Yeaaaah?"

Dib patted the floor next to him. "C'mere, I gotta give you uh, a special suit to wear outside!"

GIR hopped over, and sat as still as he could. Dib was fine with it, he was experienced enough in his craft to work on and repair actively moving machinery and not get his fingers mangled in the gears. His knobby fingers swiftly secured the cable around the torso and neck of the robot, who seemed to be humming a jaunty drinking song. The job was finished quickly, and after a few selective plucks to test that it would hold, Dib stood up with the leash in hand.

"Alright GIR, you ready?"

"Yeahhhh!"

"Okay, just remember to use your inside voice. If you stay quiet, I'll uh, I'll buy you food!" That seemed reasonable, GIR did have an inexplicable love of things he could shove in his mouth, so the bribe had a fair chance of working.

The door unlocked, and then shuddered open with a bit of effort. Dib grimaced and felt bad about neglecting it, mentally scheduling a time to work on that soon. He turned briefly to make an I'm-watching-you gesture at the semi-hidden PAK before he took a step out and tugged at the leash.

GIR launched out like a rabid rocket-powered chihuahua, and pulled Dib along with a surprising amount of strength. Once again, Dib found himself wondering what the hell GIR's power source could be, but that train of thought was promptly left at the station. To GIR's credit, he remained quiet, though his mouth and face still moved animatedly as if he were talking, making Dib wonder if he'd put himself on mute. After a brief struggle, Dib was able to wrest control from GIR before they passed by any open shops, feeling his face flush red at the thought that anyone would've seen.

It wasn't like he had a reason to be embarrassed, despite living on Velunka for six cycles, Dib had never actually gotten around to making acquaintances. With the exception of having casual conversations with regular clients, usually about business, Dib had kept to himself and his shop. His food was usually delivered automatically with a personless exchange of consumables and credits. Sure, he occasionally had to barter with other traders for materials and tools, but he didn't really consider that as social interaction, given that his basis of trust was built purely on consistent performance, not on how well they got along. He had no image for GIR to tarnish, unless he started tampering with the equipment he traded. But still, he found himself sighing out of relief when the robot seemed just fine occupying himself with the view.

They walked by the railing of the hall, allowing the two to peer into the concentric rings of Velunka, composed of countless stores and areas. Dib was lucky enough to have claimed a unit on the surface of the planet, which meant he didn't have to use the untrustworthy (and unfairly expensive) parking garage. It was hard to not get a sense of vertigo, watching the rings slowly twist and rotate around the planet's core, and Dib found himself remembering, mentally taking apart the gyroscope that was mounted on his dash in his ship.

He shook his head, dispelling the trance that mechanics so often induced. GIR was still behaving, and they were coming up to a store that usually had some higher quality garbage than what he got in the dumps of the universe.

The door opened automatically with a high pitched beep that notified the store owner of Dib's presence, and a shambling Magreathean shuffled out to the counter.

"Hellooo," it greeted before yawning widely. Dib held up his hand in a half-wave, and began to peruse the shelves of miscellaneous materials, picking through for anything noteworthy. A clinking sound came from his left, and he looked over to see GIR trying to form a frame out of two pipes and a quantum spring. Dib winced, remembering his experience trying to implement one into one of his mech suits before he knew why the word quantum was added, and then lit up, now that he had the tools and expertise to properly utilize such powerful equipment, he could create something really, really cool. He selected two more pipes and sheets of alloy, then gently took what GIR was holding to put it on the counter. The Magreathean named a reasonable price, and Dib paid quickly, not wishing to test how long GIR could remain well-behaved.

The food court was relatively close, Dib grabbed a quick box of taco-things from Spaco Spell before he and GIR headed back the way they came. The little robot seemed almost sluggish now, as if the fact he had been running around all day finally caught up with his paradox of an energy generator.

"What's up, bud?"

GIR yawned widely.

"'M _tired_."

"Yeah? Want me to pick you up?"

GIR nodded sleepily, so Dib shuffled around the food and parts in his arms, then knelt down on one knee to pick him up and carry him the rest of the way. GIR was strangely warm for being made mostly of metal in a cool environment, something Dib didn't expect, but figured he should stop being surprised. Besides, the way GIR burrowed into the crook of his elbow was.. kind of cute.

It was a little tricky, unlocking and opening the door without dislodging either the bags or the robot, but Dib figured it out with minimal fumbling. The door opened with the same dramatic shudder, causing GIR to twist in his weird robot sleep. Dib set the bags down gently and was just about to lay GIR down somewhere but he suddenly woke with a start before leaping out of Dib's arms to root through the Spaco Spell bag, grab a taco, and begin jumping on it. Dib sighed and shook his head. He took the quantum spring to his desk, and began to root through his existing blueprints to help him formulate his idea.

He had experimented with body augmentation lightly on Earth, especially in his hunt for various cryptids. If he squinted his mind's eye, he could recall what seemed to be a pogo stick leg brace, that allowed him to leap, bound, and get stuck in very tall trees. Occasionally he had sold bracing pieces in the past, mostly for biologies that just weren't interchangeable with human limbs and functions, so it had been a while since he had even been able to try any on. Dib glanced over at GIR, who was playing in his taco, occasionally stamping the meat-stuff with a foot pad and then sucking it off with wild abandon.

The sketches began in a flurry that hadn't struck him since he lived on Klough. His foot tapped to the unimaginable beat of GIR crunching the taco shell into tiny taco shards. Before he knew it, his desk was covered in a mountain of blueprints and half assembled prototypes. 

Then he heard the humming again.

Dib turned to see GIR pulling the PAK out of its hiding spot with rough, jerky motions.

"Whoa," Dib exclaimed, rushing over to gently pull the PAK from GIR's grip. "What are you doing?"

The robot looked up. "Gonna plug him in, duh."

Dib sputtered. "Plug it into what?"

GIR ran and grabbed Dib's holodisk projector.

"You were gonna plug it into that? Why?"

Even though GIR didn't have much in the way of facial muscles or features he could still give off a well executed I-can't-believe-you-really-asked-that face.

"He can't talk if he doesn't have a mouth, silly."

GIR handed him the projector. Dib took it, and held it firmly, weighing it in his hand like a butcher does a hock of meat. He stood there for an eternal moment, the projector feeling much heavier than it should. Something started feeling fuzzy in the back of his head, the pins and needles feeling intensifying until it was borderline painful. Dib shook his head, then picked the PAK up from the ground, stared at it, and put it in one of the work cabinets where GIR couldn't reach.

"Awww Mary, why'd you do that?"

Dib worried his bottom lip and looked wordlessly at the little robot.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know."

GIR stared at him for a second longer before jumping up and dragging over a crude metal square made out of the pipes Dib gave him covered in a spackling of glitter and magnets. 

"Look! Issa frame! Made it just for youuuu," the robot beamed, giggling happily. 

Dib let out a sharp bark of laughter almost purely out of shock, his eyes wide and struck blank by the whiplash. Then he looked at GIR and coughed, face smoothing out to a grateful smile. "Thank you, GIR. That's.. really sweet."

They put the photo in the frame and placed it back on the nightstand together. Then GIR went back to his pile of mush, and Dib sat at his desk, watching the cabinet where he knew the PAK glowed in the darkness.

It almost felt like they were back at the beginning, though this time it wasn't the threat of PAK retaliation that stopped them, but his own weird hesitation. 

Not much else got done, but GIR did force feed him a taco which was an improvement compared to his typical nutri-wafer consumption. And it didn't taste too bad either, which Dib was pleasantly surprised with.

Sleep was fitful at best. Most of it was the shallow, half-awake breed that never provided much rest, and anything deeper slipped into the dreams of frantically sprawling code that caused Dib to wake. He could almost hear the PAK calling to him from that cabinet a room over, a thrumming tone low and heavy in his gut.

\--

Characters- Irken characters, he recognized them now- flashed in the forefront of his mind like the dreams before. But they moved this time, shifted in between each other, forming something. As Dib watched, they grouped and spread, shrinking to allow more to be seen in his field of vision, so that he could literally see the big picture. The PAK was formed and rotated what seemed like miles above him, flickering occasionally as code would pause or change. 

Something erupted from it, in such a violent way that Dib was surprised he didn't wake up from it. At first he thought it was a weapon, or maybe the legs that he read so much about, but as the lengths slowed and stretched out he could see they were cables. The code bunched and swelled in another area, and soon an automaton manifested. The PAK cables flailed wildly until they found it, and Dib watched as the body was drawn in towards the PAK until they were connected, which was was signaled with a single, deafening click.

And then the lights were gone, and Dib was alone in his head.

\--

Dib opened the shop the next day, hoping that outside interaction would help him keep his mind off the night before. GIR was in his harness, the length enough to allow him free reign of the floor and still keep him from the desk and counter. A few customers asked questions about his half assembled spring brace on the desk, some even commissioning pieces of their own from him. He finished with the left one halfway through the day and began work on the right during a particularly lengthy conversation with one of his more active clients. 

And the PAK sat, alone and in the dark, just like it had been on Cyberflox.

Dib became hyper aware of the cabinet as the day waned into night. It took considerable effort to not stare at it for too long, lest it attract unwanted attention, and even when he wasn't looking at it the thoughts of his hesitation flooded his mind, causing him to miss fragments of sentences. All too quickly, the day ended, leaving him alone with GIR and the PAK.

He waited until GIR had yawned and tottered off to the bed to open the cabinet. The pink light pulsed brightly, almost seeming to mirror Dib's heartbeat. With tentative hands he pulled it out, gently scraping it against the cool metal of the shelf. It was just as heavy as it was the night before, and the lit surfaces were as inexplicably warm as GIR. With a smooth, quick motion, he plugged it into the projector. Immediately, words appeared before him, though the languages shifted through several Dib was familiar with and even more that he wasn't, until it settled on Earthen English.

_COMPLETE TERMINATION Y/N_

Dib took a step back, startled. The display fuzzed and blinked into clarity.

_COMPLETE TERMINATION Y/N_

"No," he blurted, scrambling to click the N. "No, no, no I still need answers!"

To his relief, the N lit up and the display faded quietly. The PAK whirred in procession of the stimulus, and a new sentence formed, again in the English Dib hadn't seen anywhere that he hadn't actually written other than the crude Earthen manuals he still carried out of habit.

_BODY_

_BUILD BODY_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that read, kudoed, and commented! Seriously, it gives me the warm fuzzies, especially reading some of your really sweet comments! I have an invader Zim tumblr @herecomesthefirstnight, so if y'all want to shoot me questions or just talk I would be utterly glad! Sorry that this chapter was late, I did end up doing a Lot of plot work (seriously over 3k of just outline), but know that means I have a clear plan and am going to continue this until the end!

**Author's Note:**

> there will be more to come! stay tuned for chapter two, out sunday!


End file.
